Legacy
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Doctor number Twelve is different. He's gay, has an earring, owns a cat, and is an electronic genius. When he finds a machine that can allow him to see and speak with his past generations, will it be an end to his loneliness? Or will his true identity waver when a trip to London causes him to pick up a female companion and a galactic crisis?


The TARDIS rattled, whirred and hummed as it always had. Wires hung haphazardly from the ceilings, and cables littered the floor, and the soft glow from the hi-power computer screens softly illuminated the man sitting at the controls.

The 12th doctor hunched over the controls, one hand scrolling through various data files on the computer, the other absently fingering a small metal stud in his left ear.

After some time, the Doctor stood, revealing his full height. He was tall, with medium length blonde hightlighted hair that fell over brilliant blue eyes. He stretched, popping the snaps open on his worn out brown denim coat and revealing a concert tee from a british metal band underneath.

"Trouble, where are yeh?" He growled in a scottish burr, peering around the dark interior of the TARDIS.

"Maow." Came the reply, and the Doctor's cat jumped lightly off the top of a nearby console, landing on the Doctor's shoulder and nuzzling his face.

"Sure... Play nice now, after you've been a pest. See if I keep feeding yeh." The Doctor said to the cat as he began to walk to his room. Trouble replied with a hard nip to the ear, causing the Doctor to nonchalantly drop the feline on the nearest pile of junk.

"Wee devil." He growled, shutting the door to his room.

Once inside, the light flicked on to reveal the contents of the 12th doctor's room. There were posters covering ever surface of the wall, mostly from Earth bands; AC/DC, ABBA, Billy Idol, Adam Lambert, David Bowie, Clay Aiken, Village People, The Who, Fun. and Pink Floyd. There were also several from movies and plays; Mamma Mia, Star Wars, Rocky Horror, RENT, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

The Twelfth Doctor sighed, flopping down on his bed and staring up at the pictures of male earth celebrities from every era that covered his ceiling.

After a moment of perusing the range of attractive faces from Clark Gable to Johnny Depp to the 2035 superstar Ed Yen, the 12th Doctor tore his eyes away and pulled a gadget and the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and began to fiddle with them.

He wasn't sure what the pile of wires and metal would do when he finished tinkering with it. It could quite possibly just explode in his face. But something in his gut said that there was a purpose in what he was doing.

He had found the shell of the metal piece on the planet Yax-Nivyen OI-XK35 when he was wandering around completely lost. He had tinkered with the TARDIS to render it completely invisible, and then subsequently forgot where he parked it. He had found the TARDIS after he picked up the metal piece; when he stood up and walked face-first into it. He never tried to camouflage the TARDIS again.

After a while of turning wires and blobs of metal, the Doctor put the metal piece back into his pocket. Trouble meowed at the door and began scratching to be let in, so the 12th Doctor got up to let the feline in. Then he laid back down and heaved a large sigh.

He was lonely. No denying.

Ever since he had woken up alone and cold in the deserted TARDIS, he had been... well, alone and cold. No one but his cat to keep him company... And that pussy was just a self-centered fleabag.

The thought of the word pussy elicited a crooked smirk. Not that he was interested in pussy in the first place. It wasn't that he was decidedly gay... Just not into women. His bedroom decor said as much. He just thought it was one of those words you laughed at.

Boredom set in for the Twelfth Doctor, and soon he became restless. He wanted- no, needed to go somewhere. Meet people, go to a club, save the world, etc.

Sighing, he got off his bed and took off his coat, throwing it into a pile of clothes. His tee shirt joined it, leaving him only in his jeans and chest hair. He plucked a white button up out of a hamper and smelled it. Deeming it safe, he threw it on and dusted himself in Talon bodyspray in the event he met someone. He didn't want to look and smell like he lived in a box, no matter how close to true it was.

On his way to the navigation system, the Doctor paused to drop some more cat food in Trouble's bowl and dump another scoop of litter in the box. Just in case.

"Okay, now where to?" He said, checking his hair in a closed metal door. "America might be nice, though there's that blasted Jersey Shore. Maybe Ireland instead. Eh, feck it. London's where it's at."

Whistling Green Day as he walked over and punched in the coordinates, the Doctor sat down in his Captain's chair and leaned back. London, mid 2010's... near to summer. It sounded like a perfect sabbatical from saving the galaxy.

As he waited for the TARDIS to travel, the Twelfth Doctor began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the sound of propulsion through time and space.

Then the dreams began...

_Colors flicked across his vision,_ _blurring the images that faded in and out of sight. _

_A ticking pocket watch floated by, his heartbeat escalating to match the passing seconds. A girl walked in front of him, blonde hair shimmering down her back. Then she faded and was replaced by a man, striking beautiful with brown hair and a cocked eyebrow that was to die for... _

_But then his face contorted into horrendous sadness, then began to slowly wither and decay until nothing was left but bones. _

_The bones reached out and attached to his neck, strangling him. _

_Then the bones became the woman again, her blue eyes sad... then angry. Then she too withered away into a rotting corpse and began-_

"MAOW!" The Twelfth Doctor was rudely awakened by his cat dropping on his stomach. He rubbed his eyes quickly, pushing the feline off of him. The TARDIS was still travelling, so he sat and brooded.

His dreams had always been bad, but recently they'd been worse. The man was always there, always dying, and always hopelessly attractive. The woman was pretty, but she didn't hold the same fixation and well... attraction as the man did. It was like they had met before... only he couldn't remember how or when.

A beeping noise came from the navigation board, and the TARDIS' whirring slowed. The Doctor sighed again and heaved himself up, shoving the thoughts about his dream into the back of his mind and forgetting about them.

Tonight he would forget he was alone and lived in an alien vessel. Tonight he would have fun.

The Twelfth Doctor opened the TARDIS door and breathed in the smell of fresh rain, neon and British smog.

"Ah, London."


End file.
